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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27427975">when the world goes dark</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/powderblew/pseuds/powderblew'>powderblew</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>embers of gold and ink stains [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Hermione Granger, F/M, Fluff, Harry just wants a family, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, Hermione doesn't know how to act, If You Squint - Freeform, Light Angst, Platonic Relationships, Sirius Black Has Nightmares, Sirius Black Lives, Sirius doesn't know how to act, Sort Of</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:28:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,234</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27427975</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/powderblew/pseuds/powderblew</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>She will never judge him for any of his fears. —Sirius/Hermione</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sirius Black/Hermione Granger</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>embers of gold and ink stains [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2003962</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>105</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>when the world goes dark</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione pretends she doesn’t hear the cracks in his voice in the middle of the night – from coughs or from his screams – because she knows very well how nightmares work. When Molly first heard her screams – never again will she stay over – the coddling and suffocation of Mrs. Weasley were enough to send her packing. She couldn’t stand the patronizing, the pity, and the condescending. She doesn’t know if Mrs. Weasley has done and seen the things that she’s done, but she has no right to try and sweep away the fear—the real fear that grips her veins and her blood underneath the rug.</p><p>So when Sirius – perhaps it was Harry – invited her to stay at Grimmauld for the summer, she hesitated for a fraction of a second.</p><p>Hermione didn’t want to seem too eager, but she didn’t want to seem like—she doesn’t know.</p><p>She had looked at Sirius for a moment, then to Harry’s bright face and then back to Sirius.</p><p>She said yes.</p><p>.</p><p>The nightmares continue for one week before it stops—silencing spells.</p><p>Hermione stares out her window; how did he remember?</p><p>She shakes her head, the real question she should be asking is: why did he remember <em>now?</em></p><p>.</p><p>“—think, Mione?” Harry looks at her expectantly and she pauses mid-swipe.</p><p>“What?” she wrinkles her nose.</p><p>He looks at her with exasperation, “Didn’t you listen to <em>anything </em>I said, ‘Mione?”</p><p>“No,” Hermione replies without remorse and continues spreading her jam on her toast, “You know better than to speak to me without two cups of tea in me.”</p><p>Sirius laughs from the corridor and throws himself into the seat next to Harry, “Even geniuses have their limits.”</p><p>She bites into her toast gracelessly, “I wouldn’t call myself a genius.”</p><p>“A prodigy, maybe,” Harry teases.</p><p>And Hermione can’t quite hold her smile in, she covers it with a cup of tea however, “What were you saying, Harry?”</p><p>“I think we should go for a picnic, at the park I mean,” he replies and gives her another slice of toast.</p><p>“A picnic?” Hermione thinks, “Isn’t it going to rain? I don’t want you getting sick Harry, you were barely human the last time you caught the flu.”</p><p>“Flu?” Sirius frowns.</p><p>“Er, muggle disease—virus,” she shakes her head and pours herself another cup of tea, “He couldn’t tell if was me or well, Ron. He was hallucinating.”</p><p>“I <em>knew </em>who you were.”</p><p>“Harry you walked into a door,” Hermione scoffs and slathers jam onto the bread her best friend had prepared.</p><p>Sirius looks over at his godson and purses his lips, “Maybe we shouldn’t—"</p><p>“Oh <em>please, </em>Sirius! I need to do something <em>normal</em>,” Harry almost whines and drops his head to the table, “I’m tired of chasing dark wizards and—”</p><p>“—if Sirius takes you will stop complaining,” Hermione cuts off his childish rant with a roll of her eyes and crosses her arms underneath her chest.</p><p>Harry picks his head up and grins.</p><p>Hermione knows she got played, but she wonders if Sirius knows too.</p><p>.</p><p>“Are you not coming, Hermione?” Sirius pokes his head into the library and quirks a brow at her position on the lounge chair.</p><p>“No, it’s alright,” Hermione shrugs and turns a page in her book.</p><p>He pauses, “Did I do something?”</p><p>“Why would you think <em>you </em>did something?” she quirks a brow back at him and tucks her feet underneath the cushion unconsciously.</p><p>“You don’t…really leave the library,” Sirius smiles ruefully and leans against the doorframe, “It’s not healthy to curl up and read those dusty things, Hermione. Plus you don’t really spend time with Harry.”</p><p>Hermione tries to decipher if he’s being patronizing or nosy. She struggles for a moment and glances out the window. She changes the subject, “You should go before it starts to rain.”</p><p>His face hardens, shutter panes closing and storm crossing, “Hermione—”</p><p>“I get Harry for nine months,” she finally says and looks over at him, “Before that it was three or maybe four years. You got him after two weeks. Now you have a few more weeks with him before we go back to school, I suggest you make the most out of your time, Sirius.”</p><p>Sirius stares at her in shock, the pit in his throat tightens and he blinks away the blurry picture of Hermione sitting in his chaise—staring at him with curious brown eyes. He rubs the back of his neck uncomfortably and isn’t quite sure how to respond. Still, he mumbles awkwardly, “Right, well…”</p><p>He leaves then because he couldn’t quite look her in the eye.</p><p>Hermione exhales deeply.</p><p>.</p><p>Things are a little different from then.</p><p>Hermione will become more human when her second cup of tea hits her blood, the caffeine not settling like coffee, but a slow wash of warmth when the honey coats the back of her throat and rests in her bones. She decides on eggs today and a bit of hash. She’s starting to get sick of jam.</p><p>Harry waits until she pours her third cup of tea to speak, “Mione, I was thinking…”</p><p>“How dangerous,” she quips swiftly.</p><p>Sirius huffs a chuckle into his toast.</p><p>He ignores her, “Do you think we should go flying?”</p><p>“I don’t know why you’re asking me,” Hermione exhales and pokes her eggs, “I hate flying.”</p><p>“Do you not remember how she screamed when Buckbeak took off, Harry?” Sirius reminds him and winks at the witch.</p><p>She gives him a dry glare.</p><p>“I still think you should learn to fly,” Harry prompts.</p><p>“Over my dead body,” Hermione scowls and chomps on her potatoes, “I will stay on the ground. The ground, which does <em>not </em>move.”</p><p>“What if there’s an earthquake?” the young Potter prods.</p><p>“Then I’ll use a stabilizing spell,” she rolls her eyes and finishes her eggs, “Honestly, you’re wasting your breath. I am <em>not </em>learning to fly.”</p><p>Harry pouts.</p><p>“Is there a reason you don’t like heights, kitten?” Sirius tilts his head and silently offers his bottle of blackberry jam.</p><p>Hermione shakes her head and then frowns, “Kitten?”</p><p>“Ah, you know,” he waves his hand casually and looks back at his tea, “The hair and face.”</p><p>“How eloquent,” she can’t decide whether she’s amused or offended that he can’t seem to look at her and explain.</p><p>He grins sheepishly.</p><p>“Okay, but Mione, <em>flying,</em>” Harry looks at her with those stupid, glossy green eyes of his and <em>pouts, </em>“Ron—”</p><p>“—I am <em>not </em>Ron, Harry,” Hermione almost snaps, yes, she’s a little sore about their last conversation—argument, whatever. But she’s not a replacement for that redhead moron who <em>thought </em>that shouldn’t remember what he said behind her back to <em>Neville </em>no doubt. She’s—Hermione and even Professor Lupin said that if it wasn’t for her they really would be dead.</p><p>Her job, unofficially, is to keep her two best friends alive. Yes, two because even though Ron has the emotional range of a teaspoon, he’s still her friend and it’s enough. It had to be.</p><p>“I’m going to the library,” Hermione leaves the kitchen with her hands shoved in her sweatpants.</p><p>.</p><p>Hermione skips dinner, intent on filling her belly with this new spell that she’s developing. A shield of some sort, if she can manage to hold it for more than ten seconds, it would take form and protect her idiot friends.</p><p>“You missed dinner,” Sirius pops his head into the library this time.</p><p>She blinks and the ink of the words disappears after a few swipes of her eyes, “Not hungry.”</p><p>“Kitten, you’re starting to worry me,” he frowns and walks into the library, “You didn’t even eat lunch.”</p><p>“Had a big breakfast,” Hermione rolls her eyes.</p><p>“Hash and eggs isn’t considered <em>big,</em>” he points out and takes a seat on the arm of the couch.</p><p>“What do you need, Sirius?” she puts her book down and pins him down with her eyes. It’s weird how—strange their relationship is. He’s not exactly, well, an <em>adult, </em>he’s like a teenager stuck in adult form and he’s not parental enough to be well a guardian, though legally he is. Because he feels more like a friend than, someone she would respect—someone like Arthur, for example.</p><p>It’s weird.</p><p>Sirius hesitates and decides to be blunt, “Harry told me that he’s heard my nightmares and wanted to know if you did too because you never said anything.”</p><p>Hermione stares at him and frowns, “And Harry told you to say that?”</p><p>“No,” he snaps and then falters, “No, I just—I feel like I don’t know you and you live here, kitten.”</p><p>She curls her fingers in her blanket and then hesitates. The atmosphere is thick, trickling with unknown magic and unspoken words. She licks her lips, “Is that why you’ve been, trying to um, spend time with you?” she adds quickly, “And Harry?”</p><p>“Partly,” Sirius nods, and then he looks her in a way that she can’t seem to define. Slate eyes glimmer almost like silver in the firelight, “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before, kitten. You’re frighteningly bright.”</p><p>Hermione laughs at that and he feels something inside him warm at the sight. She presses a hand to her cheek, “That’s not the first time I’ve heard that.”</p><p>He smirks at that, “Oh? See, now we’re getting somewhere.”</p><p>She throws in a non-sequitur, mostly because he’s not expecting it and she thinks that he shouldn’t get too comfortable with her because when she leaves she doesn’t want to miss him. That would hurt. “I’ve heard you having nightmares, for about a week or so. I assume you put up some silencing spells to muffle the noise since Harry told you.”</p><p>Sirius blinks at that and she can practically see him throw his walls up.</p><p>“I didn’t say anything because—” she pauses, she didn’t say anything because she doesn’t <em>know </em>him, doesn’t know how to comfort him or if she even has that <em>right</em> to comfort him, because it’s a weird relationship and it’s freefalling from here. “Because I can’t claim to know what it’s like in Azkaban or what it’s like to spend your life in there, for years. Captive and,” she swallows, “It can sound patronizing and horrible from other people who try to sympathize and I don’t want to lessen the effect or make your nightmares seem mundane because they aren’t. It’s completely understandable for you to have nightmares and wonder if you’re in real life because I mean it’s such a change.”</p><p>Hermione knows she’s rambling but she can’t seem to stop.</p><p>“I didn’t want to overstep or make it seem like,” Hermione smiles sadly, “Like I’m a <em>know-it-all </em>because I do know what it’s like to wake up screaming from nightmares—not that our situations are the same! I mean we can’t compare—”</p><p>Sirius cups her face and closes her mouth shut. His eyes are soft, softer than she’s ever seen them and she swallows at the liquid mercury. He smiles almost gently, a harsh contrast to the pale glow of the moon, and remarks, “Hermione, I think you talk too much.”</p><p>She smiles tightly, “A little, I think.”</p><p>“You are very,” he pauses and drops his hands to grip wrists, “Kind. Selfless, brilliant, and brave, Hermione. I didn’t realize—”</p><p>Sirius never realized the extent of Hermione’s kindness, her thoughtfulness, her selflessness, her shrewd type of intelligence that has her seeing beyond her years, intuitive in the way she seems to absorb the emotions and non-verbal cues from around her. She’s better at reading people than he is.</p><p>“What do you mean,” Sirius starts off and squeezes her hands. He’s kneeling on the floor next to her chair, “When you said that you <em>know what it’s like to wake up screaming from nightmares?</em>”</p><p>Hermione looks at him warily, “Did Harry tell you about our second year?”</p><p>“Bits and pieces,” he confesses and his chin dips into the armrest, “Something about a basilisk?”</p><p>“I was petrified by it,” she says quietly and doesn’t look at him when she continues, “I saw the reflection of the snake. Being petrified—it’s like you see and hear and feel everything that’s happening, but you can’t move. Can’t blink, can't move your hands—it’s like being stuck in this one place and watching everything pass you by. I kept thinking, how easy it would be for someone to kill me in that state.”</p><p>Sirius flinches.</p><p>“I hate feeling vulnerable,” Hermione admits and leans back in her chair, “I hate it even more than feeling weak.”</p><p>“You are not <em>weak, </em>kitten,” he presses and tugs a strand of curly hair behind her head.</p><p>“Nightmares don’t make you weak,” she looks at him now and squeezes his hands, “It makes you human. Fear will only hurt you if you let it.”</p><p>The Black heir stands up suddenly, both uncomfortable and stricken at the turn in conversation. There’s a mix of something else too. He thinks it’s affection coupled with something susceptible. He doesn’t know how Hermione presses against his wounds, so bare and easy to bleed. She doesn’t press or heal, but she comforts him all the same.</p><p>Sirius presses a kiss to her cheek, “You really are the brightest witch of your age, Hermione.”</p><p>.</p><p>Hermione presses two fingers to the corner of cheek, her face is warm and she swears she can still feel the burn of his lips against the skin there.</p>
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